


September 7th

by secretagentfan



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion’s worth more than whatever he can think of fitting inside a shitty box. At least, that’s what Nezumi thinks until shitty-box-giving-time comes around, and he finds himself empty handed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	September 7th

            Nezumi can’t believe it’s been a year. A full _year_ and he’s still unaccustomed to the feeling of actually being _satisfied_ with his life.

            These bizarre feelings will appear out of nowhere just before the sun rises, often after a nightmare, when he’s still trying to calm his shaking hands and soothe his fast heartbeat. He’s _happy_ — and that means that terror feels a hell of a lot worse but it also means that he’s not facing it alone. The warm arms and body that wrap around him protectively, the hand that never fails to run through his hair and wipe off his cheeks, prove he’s not alone anymore.

            He’s home.

And Nezumi is so relieved about that fact he could cry. He _has_ cried—helplessly, last September 7 th when that deadly feeling hit him the moment he saw Shion again, window open and arms out, not screaming, but waiting, with a patient, tired face and a bottle of wine—just in case this year was not _the one_ and he had to fall asleep alone.

            Nezumi left to prove he could live without Shion. He returned because he didn’t _want_ to.

             Which makes birthday gifts a hell of a lot more difficult. Especially after last year’s present— it’s not as though he can return home _twice_ , dammit.

And so Nezumi is stuck.

            He’s been glued to Shion the last twelve months, but picking out a birthday present just seemed so very _unimportant_. Especially when compared to the happiest and most frustrating adjustment Nezumi’s ever had to experience in his life— actually planting his roots and living with Shion.

            He had planned to come up with something in August— he’s not a completely heartless bastard—but then a massive typhoon hit and Karan’s roof started leaking and Nezumi found a new role as repairman for the entire fucking neighborhood on His Majesty’s orders. Their apartment wasn’t even free from the flooding and Nezumi found the majority of his time occupied by _fixing_ walls (the irony is not lost on him) and making sure Shion didn’t work himself to the bone trying to clean up the entire city single-handedly. Frankly the approach of September 7 th went past his radar.

            Before he knows it, it’s September 6th and he’s entering the third store within _un_ reasonable walking distance, questing helplessly for the perfect present— when he realizes he left his wallet in the apartment.

            He curses. Loudly. So loudly that the kindly old woman behind the counter looks him in the eye and asks him if he needs a glass of water.

            And Nezumi, exhausted, guilty, broke, and covered in spackling materials—to his eternal shame—takes her up on her offer. With his dignity already lost, it’s surprisingly easy to beg her to give him _something_ in exchange for manual labor.

            She smiles at him knowingly, nods, slowly hobbling her way to the back of the shop remarking about how lucky he is, they just so happened to receive a new shipment of goods and haven’t been able to sell this one particular item. 

            She returns with an ancient looking sweater that has a hand-embroidered yellow daisy in the center. It’s quite arguably the ugliest fucking thing he’s ever laid eyes on. But it is _something_ , it is free, the store is closing, and Nezumi is desperate. With a heavy heart, Nezumi swings the repulsive sweater over his shoulder and leaves the shop.

            Shion’s already asleep when Nezumi returns home. He showers and sets the sweater in the closet, unable to even look at it. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around the person he will always return for, guilt heavy in his stomach. Shion, completely unaware of his poor choice of significant other, leans into him.

            He felt like dirt, waking up the morning of September 7th with only a tacky sweater to give to the person who made him realize that the world is actually sometimes okay because people like _him_ live in it.

            Shion kisses him good morning and the first thing out of Nezumi’s mouth instead of ‘good morning’ or ‘happy birthday’ is a pathetic— “I fucked up.”

            Shion stares at him, blinks, tilts his head to one side and blearily comments. “It’s barely 6am. Already?”

            Nezumi swallows. Hesitantly stands, opens the closet door and holds up the sweater.

            For a moment, neither of them move. Shion’s staring straight ahead, eying the daisy carefully. Nezumi has his feet planted, refusing to meet Shion’s eyes.

“Were you drunk?” Shion asks, and it’s a surprisingly good question.

“No. I left my wallet at home. It was the only thing I could get for free.” He lowers the sweater, staring at his socks, only vaguely aware of the fact he fell asleep in them. “…You deserve better."

            A few seconds pass and suddenly Shion is laughing. Loudly, unabashedly. His shoulders are shaking and his hand covers his mouth desperately trying to stifle his voice but his choking laughs only increase the longer he looks at Nezumi and that goddamned sweater. He laughs and he laughs until he tips over and clutches his stomach and that only makes him laugh harder. Nezumi suddenly understands why Shion threw water at him the last time he cracked up like this-- he’s never been more pissed, more humiliated, or more relieved in all his life.

            Shion helplessly wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas, attempting to swallow his giggles. Nezumi feels the blush on his face increase and suddenly Shion’s hands are wrapped around him and his tongue is in his mouth and he’s being pushed down onto the bed and he can practically taste Shion’s laughter on his lips and inside his mouth as he crawls on top of him and kisses him over and over again.

            This is not at all how he expected this morning to go but he reflexively tightens his grip around Shion, kissing him through his laughter, until suddenly Nezumi’s laughing too because Shion’s happiness is contagious and it spreads to every part of his body, warming him up and making him dizzy and giddy and so, so _satisfied._

            Between their rushed kisses and near-hysterical laughter, catching their breath proves to be an incredibly difficult task. Shion remarkably manages. He pulls away and rests his forehead against Nezumi’s. “You’re…impossible, Nezumi.”

            Nezumi blinks, and Shion kisses him again, a gentle brush. “You’re enough, you know that? You’re always enough. More than enough.” He kisses him once more, sloppy and cheerful.

            Nezumi’s heart catches and he finds himself trying to pull Shion closer than should be physically possible and Shion’s softly giggling again, burying his face in Nezumi’s neck as he holds him just as tightly in return.

            Nezumi’s never felt like _enough_ in his entire life.

But for Shion, and Shion’s sake only—will Nezumi allow himself to indulge in the fact that sometimes he can be.

            Shion wears the hideous sweater all day, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for editing, Megucahomo!


End file.
